


2483

by vivific



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Bullying, Closeted Character, Coming Out, Everyone Loves Marinette Dupain-Cheng, F/F, Forced coming out, Not Canon Compliant, Pre-Canon, Questioning, Rejection, Scars, Trust Issues, Unrequited Crush
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-27
Updated: 2018-03-30
Packaged: 2019-03-09 16:24:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 9,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13485318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vivific/pseuds/vivific
Summary: Four years of bullying can have quite an effect on a person.





	1. day 1

**Author's Note:**

> if you stan chloe i suggest you not read unless you aced critical thinking in literature class I guess
> 
> warning: this fic is gonna be pretty sad, i don't know, i tried not to make it sad but it was still very very sad, marinette needs hugs and therapy
> 
> follow me on [tumblr (imaginal)](http://imaginal.tumblr.com/) and [twitter (vivoeux)](https://twitter.com/vivoeux) for fic updates, wips, and me crying at my keyboard

It’s her first day of college. She loves the building. It’s big and spacious but everywhere is neatly furnished and decorated. Each classroom shows signs of activity and the teachers seem friendly and welcoming. It feels like perfection.

She’s the youngest student on campus. She’s a grade skipper, one year younger than the rest of her classmates. She should still be in _élémentaire_ , not _collège_.

No one should know she’s not supposed to be in their class, she’s too quiet to tell people and no teacher has announced it. But somehow word gets out, and by the end of the school day, and with the grace of any 11-year-old, Chloé Bourgeois is the first to confront her about it.

“Is it true you’re not supposed to be here?” she asks, without so much as a greeting.

Chloé Bourgeois is one of the popular girls. She’s pretty, her father is the mayor, and they’re super rich. She and Marinette are complete opposites.

Chloé tosses her ponytail over her shoulder impatiently.

“Hell _o_?” she waves a hand in front of Marinette’s face. “I’m talking to you.”

“I—I don’t understand what you’re talking about,” Marinette manages to squeak out. “Of course I’m supposed to be here.”

“Holy crap, guys, she speaks!” Chloé postures for the rest of the girls. “Dang, I was expecting you to have some sort of accent or something. You’re always mumbling when the _professeur_ calls on you.”

Marinette blinks. She’s not sure how to respond to that.

“S—Sorry?”

The girls erupt into peals of laughter, and Chloé is the loudest. Marinette feels a rush of cold, even under the warm dress her parents bought for her first day. She ducks her head.

“Aww, and you have pigtails!” Chloé leans over her desk and grabs at one of them.

“Ow! Let me go!”

“Calm down, I just want a look, what’s with the bows? You really are a baby, aren’t you?”

“All right class, back to your seats.”

Chloé lets her go and smiles at Marinette.

“You’re so cute, you know,” she squeezes Marinette’s cheeks.

“Back to your seats, everyone!”

Chloé releases her face, and strides back to her desk with the rest of her friends. Marinette rubs at her skin. Chloé’s nails are long. There’s a dreadful burning behind her eyes. She stares down at her desk, instead.

_If a boy pulls at your pigtails, it means he likes you._

So, Chloé must like her, right?

Right?


	2. day 8

“All right, now you should all be paired up, now.”

Marinette shifts in her seat. Come on, speak up.

“I’ll give you the next twenty minutes to come up with ideas. When you’ve chosen one, come tell me and I’ll note it down. Any questions?”

Yes, Marinette thinks, I don’t have a partner.

“No? Okay. Start planning.”

The class bursts into chatter, and students move around the room to their partners. Amidst this, Marinette sits, still and quiet.

Go, go, you have to tell her you need a partner.

She can’t move. She’s waited too long. The _professeur_ is going to be annoyed she didn’t tell her sooner when she asked.

You’re only delaying it, _go already_.

She rises, pushing herself up with her hands.

Go.

She takes cautious steps towards the teacher’s desk.

“Yes, Marinette?”

“Um…”

Come on, you can do it.

The teacher’s bespectacled gaze is scary, though.

“Is everything all right?”

“I—I don’t have a partner.”

The teacher blinks, and looks out over the busy classroom. A look of realization falls over her face.

“Oh! I’m so sorry, Marinette, I must have missed you.” She picks up a paper. “Yes, okay, you’re the odd student out. Do you have a particular group you want to join?”

“I…” She looks out at the class. Even after a week, she hasn’t made any friends.

Her eyes fall onto a blonde ponytail.

“Can I join Chloé’s group?”

“Of course!” The teacher beams, and rises from her chair. Marinette lets her guide them over to Chloé and her partner. The students part for their teacher like a tide.

“Chloé, Charlotte,” the teacher calls the girls’ attention. Chloé and Charlotte turn, curled locks whipping against their shoulders in matching flair. “Marinette doesn’t have a partner, so she’ll be joining your group.”

Charlotte looks Marinette up and down. “Why’s she with us?”

“Charlotte,” the teacher’s voice grows stern. Charlotte scoffs.

“Fine, but she better do her part.”

“I assure you, she will, this is a group effort, after all. Chloé?”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.”

“Perfect. I’ll leave you three to it, then.”

Marinette feels the teacher pat her shoulder and walk away.

Charlotte and Chloé zero in on her, and Marinette feels smaller than she already is.

“So, you’re like, super smart, right?” Charlotte asks.

“I’m… gifted.”

“So you’re super smart.”

“I guess?”

“Awesome, so here’s how we’re gonna do the project. Chloé and I’ll handle the presenting part ‘cos, no offence, you’re way too quiet when you talk, and you can just do the info stuff. Then it’s fair, right, Chloé?”

“Yep, that cool, Marinette?”

Chloé stares her down, and Marinette nods. Chloé beams, and stands from her desk to sling an arm around Marinette’s shoulder.

“Cool, c’mon, sit,” Chloé manoeuvres Marinette into the blonde’s vacated seat. “Here, you can use my textbook, I’ll sit with Charlotte, here.” Chloé perches herself on the other girl’s desk. “We won’t bother you, so just let us know when you’re done.”

“My… notebook and stuff are still—”

“Oh, pssh, here, use mine, you can keep it if you want, I don’t care.”

Chloé fishes out a glittery spiral notebook and equally bedazzled pencil, and drops it on top of the textbook. Marinette flinches from the sound, but looks up at the girl.

“Thank you, Chloé.”

Chloé waves a hand.

“Whatever.”

A warmth enters Marinette’s heart.


	3. day 17

“I’ve finished grading your presentations,” the teacher says, “You’ve all done very well.”

Chloé’s group got a perfect score, and Chloé and Charlotte squeal at each other for a good moment, before feigning indifference in front of the rest of the class. Marinette doesn’t join in the festivities, and simply sits with her perfect mark.

“Hey, what’d you get?” Her neighbour prompts. Marinette shows him the paper. He’s unimpressed. “Ugh, of course _you_ got perfect, you’re part-Chinese, aren’t you?”

The boy turns away before Marinette can formulate a reply. She pulls out Chloé’s gifted notebook and hides the grade inside.

“Dang it, Chloé, how are you that smart?” someone asks in mock frustration.

Chloé lets out a laugh that hangs in the air.

“Well, I’m just perfect.”

Just perfect, huh? Marinette stares at the cover. She smiles to herself.

Yeah, maybe they are perfect.


	4. day 25

Since then, Marinette is Chloé’s partner in everything. The blonde is the first person to shoot her hand up at the sign of a group project, and ask, “May I be paired with Marinette, please?”

And then Marinette will sit by Chloé while she chats with her friends, and work without another word.

“Do whatever you think is best, Mari,” Chloé beams, and runs her fingers through Marinette’s pigtails. “I believe in you.”

Marinette loves Chloé’s smiles. They’re real, and they’re only ever for her. Chloé smiles a lot, but they’re different to other people.


	5. Chapter 5

“Hey,” Chloé cuts Marinette off. “I know you usually sit with me when we have a project together, but do you wanna just sit at your own desk? You know I don’t really have much to say, and besides, I’m super loud and distracting to you.”

“That’s not true,” Marinette shakes her head, “You’re not loud at all! It’s fine, I can work with you.”

“No, it’s just,” Chloé guides Marinette back to the latter’s desk, “I really think it might be best if you stay here. Besides, you’re by the window and everything.”

“I—”

“Thank you,” Chloé gives her a quick hug, “I knew you’d understand.”

With that, the blonde scurries back to her group of friends.

Marinette stares down at the pile of books in her arms. Her eyes are burning. For some reason, this hurts.

She sits back down, opens a textbook, and stares at it. The images and text begin to blur.

Oh no.

A few moments later, Marinette jumps from her desk and runs out of the classroom. The class pauses, just briefly, and then the teacher leaves to go after her.

“What the hell was that?” Charlotte asks. “Didn’t you just tell her she couldn’t sit with you?”

Charlotte’s face is the picture of incredulousness. Chloé opts for a scoff.

“God, she’s such a baby,” she rolls her eyes. “I was polite and everything, too.”

“I told you it was a bad idea to talk to her. She probably thought you were friends.”

“Ew, shut up,” she lightly punches Charlotte’s shoulder, “That’s gross. Her parents are _bakers_ , remember? As if _I’d_ be friends with someone like _her_.”


	6. day 29

“Chloé, may I speak with you outside for a moment?”

Marinette stares at the lockers, the hem of her skirt clenched in her fists, as the teacher guides Chloé out of the classroom.

“So I believe there’s been a misunderstanding between you and Marinette, yesterday.”

“I only wanted her to get somewhere to work quietly. It’s super loud where I sit.”

“Professeur, it’s not Chloé’s fault, I’m just—” what was the word? “I’m just sensitive.”

“See? We’re fine.”

Chloé slings an arm around Marinette’s shoulders. Marinette turns, and leans into the one-armed hug.

“I’m sorry if I hurt you, but,” Chloé says, “I just wanted to help you.”

Marinette sniffles, and rubs at her eyes.

“It’s fine. I didn’t mean to cry.”

Chloé pulls away to hold onto Marinette’s shoulders.

“So we’re still friends?”

Marinette smiles.

“Yeah,” she says, “We’re still friends.”


	7. day 33

Chloé leaves after school immediately, so Marinette has a very small window to confront her. She has told her parents she had an afterschool project, so they could pick her up an hour later than usual.

The dismissal bell rings, and Marinette scrambles from her desk to Chloé’s.

“Hey, Chloé?”

Her voice is louder than she intended, and people stop and stare at her. Chloé turns from Charlotte and meets her eyes.

“Yeah, Mari?” Her voice goes soft, contrasting the varying gazes of disapproval to disgust from her friends. “What’s up?”

“I… I wanted to give you this.”

She trusts out the gift, a friendship bracelet.

“It’s… I made it, for you, because you said we were friends and I… I wanted to commemorate that.” She motions to her own wrist. She has a matching bracelet.

Chloé stares at the bracelet. It’s woven with beads and tied by hand. Clearly not the work of a professional, but there’s a labour of love.

Charlotte starts laughing first.

“She made you a _friendship_ bracelet? What is this, arts and crafts?”

“Damn, Chloé, you really picked the right _friend_ , huh?”

“Aren’t your parents bakers? Maybe you should stick to that.”

Marinette’s smile begins to fall. Chloé is still staring at the bracelet.

“Chloé?”

The blonde swings her hand, and the bracelet goes flying. It hits the side of a desk and falls to the ground. Marinette is frozen.

“God, you’re really a baby, aren’t you?” Chloé asks. She finally meets Marinette’s eyes, and there is no warmth in her smile. “I only called you my friend ‘cause you’re so clingy, but you made me a friendship bracelet? For a smartass like you, you really are dumb.”

There are no words in Marinette’s mind, but even she had a response, she wouldn’t be able to voice them. Her throat begins to hurt, and there’s the burning in her eyes.

“Aww, looks guys, I made the baby cry.” Marinette wipes at her eyes. “You’re adorable,” Chloé says, “Do you need someone to kiss your boo-boo away—”

Marinette turns, and runs straight into another student. She pushes them out of her way, and stumbles out of the class. The room is laughing at her.


	8. day 44

Marinette never talks to Chloé again, and Chloé never asks to be grouped with her in a project. The teacher is stunned to hear Chloé request Charlotte as a partner, but doesn’t question it.

She keeps her head down, and doesn’t engage with any of her classmates. They don’t engage with her either. She thought collège would be fun, but it isn’t.

The class is in P.E., but she and another student have forgotten their clothes. She swore she had it in her locker, but the knapsack is gone.

“Why did you always put up with Chloé?” the other student asks.

“Why do you?”

The other student falls silent. He picks up his binder from his desk. Marinette can’t find hers. She shuffles through the inside of her desk and pulls out notebook after notebook.

“Chloé’s… always cruel, you know. She doesn’t really like anyone.”

She shoves aside a textbook instead of replying. Where _is_ her binder? The boy continues.

“She was only using you, like the way she’s using that new girl.”

Marinette pulls out a familiar bejewelled spiral notebook.

“Poor girl,” she says, putting the notebook aside and refilling her desk. “Why won’t you tell her?”

“It’s—”

“None of your business, huh?”

Marinette looks up at the guy. His name’s Nino or something. He keeps to himself, too. She scoffs, and finishes cleaning up her desk. She picks up Chloé’s notebook and walks past him.

“You knew I was being fooled,” she says, without a hint of accusation, “and you didn’t say anything.”

She throws the notebook into the trash. It’s a statement.

“Let me guess, you also know Chloé’s the one who took my gym clothes and my binder, and you’re waiting to try and tell me.”

“I… I didn’t…” The boy stammers.

Marinette walks out.


	9. day 1392

The school years pass in a haze. Marinette doesn’t remember anything that happened at school except for lessons. Chloé continues to bother her, especially after Marinette attempted to let Sabrina know she was being used. Fine, whatever, at least Marinette tried. It’s not her fault Sabrina refused to believe her.

Finally, it’s their last year, and for graduating students, they get to go on a camping trip. It’s unorthodox and is less a camping trip and more of a vacation to a glorified resort. The most camp-like thing they’ll have are smores and hot chocolate.

Marinette insists she doesn’t want to go. Three days away from home, surrounded by people she’s at most uncomfortable with, sleeping in a place which costs more per night than a week at any basic hotel? No thank you.

But she’s graduating, and her parents persist, and she agrees if only because the architecture of the place will likely be amazing and she’d love to study it anyway.

So she goes, and it’s the worst three days of her life.

The first two days are fine, she keeps herself busy with books and focuses on the area rather than the people. She doesn’t go swimming at the Olympic-sized pool, and instead does sketches of the people. She studies the vases of decorative flowers and chats with other visitors instead of her peers.

And on the last day, they have a celebratory party, with food and sweet drinks and a makeshift dance floor. Chloé sways around with a guy to pop music, and Marinette tries to make herself scarce by picking up a cup of orange juice and hiding in a corner. It’s hard to sketch in the dark, but the silhouettes are interesting to look at.

The party is still in full swing when someone sits next to her.

“Having fun?” Nino asks.

Marinette flips her sketchbook page. She and Nino are, at best, cordial.

But they’re not friends.

“I am.” She says and gives no further information. Charlotte’s skirt is way too short, Yvette spiked the punch, and Hérault is high on something he shouldn’t be.

“So, collège is over. Which lycée at you going to?”

“Françoise Dupont.”

“The arts school?”

“Yep.”

“That’s… by your family’s bakery, right?”

“Yep.”

“Cool. I’m going there too.”

“Neat.”

Nino doesn’t respond. She goes back to sketching. It’s too dark, and the disco lights are intermittent, but at least she’s doing something with her hands.

“You… don’t like me, do you?”

“I don’t know you,” she says, bluntly. It’s true, she doesn’t. They’ve spent four years of collège together, and she doesn’t know him at all. She knows he likes music, knows he’s the best at music theory, knows his family is Moroccan, and knows his last name is Lahiffe.

She doesn’t know him as a person.

“You know, I… I like you.”

“Thank you,” she says, “I’m flattered.”

“Not—Not like, I love you, but you’re a cool person. You’re smart and pretty and artistic, and I’d… I’d like to be your friend, someday.”

She stills at the word. Friend.

“That’s—”

“Oh, look who’s here,” a familiar voice calls out, “Marinette Dupain-Cheng!”

Marinette closes her eyes, even though the room is already plenty dark. Damn it. She rises from the floor.

Someone grabs her arm. Her eyes shoot open.

“Come on, let’s dance, Mari,” Chloé says, dragging her towards the dance floor.

“I’d really rather not,” she replies, but the music is getting louder. Chloé wouldn’t care, anyway.

“Come on!” Chloé nudges, and they pass the refreshments.

“I said, _no_.” Marinette pulls back. Her wrist slips from Chloé’s grip. Chloé stumbles.

“What the hell?” She asks, over the music. “Don’t you want to have fun?”

“Not with you,” Marinette says. The lighting is better now. Chloé’s face is red with alcohol. Oh jeez.

“I don’t remember you being this much of a drag,” Chloé moans, and goes straight for a hug. Marinette stumbles. Chloé’s planted her face right into her chest.

“God, I missed hugging you, you’re so small and squishy.” Chloé says, or Marinette thinks she says. She hopes she’s mishearing.

“What? Please get off of me.”

Chloé giggles and raises her head. She prods at Marinette’s cheeks.

“You’re super cute, you know?”

Marinette scans the dance floor. Chloé’s friends seem to be elsewhere. Finally, she sees the guy Chloé was dancing with at the start.

“Chrétien!” She yells. Chloé cringes and pulls away.

“What the fuck, Mari—”

“Chrétien, come get your girl already—”

There’s a commotion. Someone’s arguing. Marinette turns and sees Charlotte and another girl having it out, Hérault between them.

“I fucking knew it!” Charlotte screams over the music. “You fucking _slut_ —”

Hérault makes some vague motion and tries to console his girlfriend, but Charlotte slaps him across the face. Hérault goes down like a sack of potatoes. Charlotte wasn’t on the volleyball team for the prestige.

“Ugh,” Chloé grumbles, straightening and not letting Marinette go, “I knew Charlotte was too trusting.”

“Are you going to throw up or can I leave?”

“What?”

“Hey, Chloé, can you believe this bullshit?” Charlotte demands, stalking over to them. Hérault’s being hauled off the ground by his friends. The other girl seems to have vanished into the crowd. “Hérault was fucking making out with some bitch in the—”

“Dude, everyone saw this coming, you have the worst taste in guys,” Chloé slurs, brushing her hair from her eyes. “Chill out and forget about him.”

“What do you _mean_ I have a bad taste in guys?!” Charlotte screams. Marinette grimaces.

“Here,” she says, shoving Chloé over to her. It’s too loud, there’s too much happening, and she needs to _leave_.

“What the fuck are _you_ doing here anyway?” Charlotte asks.

“Leaving,” Marinette says.

“No, Mari, don’t go,” Chloé whines, and latches on to her arm. “Everyone else here is so _boring_.”

“ _I’m_ boring, Bourgeois?!”

“You _are_. You’re also super loud and it’s annoying.”

“Let me go, Chloé.”

“N _o._ ”

“Why not?”

“You’re my friend.”

It’s too loud. It’s too dark. It’s too much.

“Fuck _you_.”

Chloé is too confused to say anything, and Marinette pushes her away.

“You’re a horrible person, Chloé Bourgeois, you’re a selfish, entitled asshole who won’t do anything unless it somehow benefits you. You’re cruel and heartless and yet you expect everyone to bend over backwards to please you. You use people but you won’t stick around for anyone else who needs you. Where’s Sabrina, huh? I guess she finally saw through your ruse and left you, too. You’re pathetic, Chloé, and _I hate you_.”

She turns and walks away. The music is still going, things are still too loud, too close, too much, but it feels a bit less terrible.

Until someone – Nino? – yells over the music, “Look out!”

She’s too slow to turn, and that’s good, because Chloé takes a cupful of steaming hot chocolate, and pours it down her back.


	10. day 1399

It takes her days to leave the hospital.

She’s lucky she waited to turn. The burns are her back look awful in the mirror. The scalding reaches from the top of her shoulders down to the bottom of her waist. It’s a splash of horrific decoration, and it heals in peeling skin and discoloured patches of off-white.

“I guess you don’t have to worry about me wearing open-back dresses,” she jokes to her parents. They cry at her bedside, as she lays on her stomach.

It was an accident, Chloé’s father says. Chloé didn’t know the hot chocolate was that hot.

They can’t press charges, and they won’t even try. The Bourgeois family have every connection to make their lives hell, and they’ve already offered to pay for Marinette’s treatment.

It’s fine, she says, over and over. One of the first lessons she learned upon meeting Chloé was that no adult will ever be capable of defending Marinette from her.

She’s lucky. The burns heal. They leave their scars, but Marinette can hide them.

It’s not the first scar Chloé Bourgeois has left on her, after all.


	11. day 1463

Chloé never mentions that night. No one Marinette remembers from collège does. When Chloé tells her to move, Marinette stares up at her, and wonders if she even remembers what she did while drunk.

“Hey, who made you queen of seats?”

“Ooh, look Sabrina, we have a goody-two-shoes in our class this year!”

Marinette rises and walks away.

“Hey.”

The new girl sits back down.

“Thank you for standing up to Chloé.” Marinette says.

“Nah, it’s nothing. I know her type. My name’s Alya.”

“Marinette.”

“So, I’m guessing you came from the same collège as Chloé?” Alya prompts.

Marinette nods.

“Dang, that must be awful.”

Marinette nods.

“I just moved here. I used to live in Nice, but my parents got job offers here.”

“That’s lovely.” Marinette swallows. She should reply. “Paris is nice.”

“What do your parents do?” Alya asks.

“They run a bakery together.” Marinette braces herself, ready for mockery. Instead, Alya’s face lights up with interest.

“Aww, that’s so sweet! Uh, pun not intended.” Marinette cracks a smile. “So are you into baking?”

“Not really. I’m…” Marinette bites her lip. Alya seems… nice. “I’m more into designing.”

“Oooh,” Alya’s beaming, “like fashion and stuff?”

Marinette nods.

“That is so cool, I love visual art stuff. I’m more of an admirer, though.”

“What do you do?”

“Well, I’m a huge fan of Majestia, you know, the American superheroine?”

“I think I’ve heard of her in the news.”

“Yeah,” Alya pulls out her phone. “She’s gotten into some trouble with the government there, but the heroes in the States are crazy controversial with the authorities. It’s a huge mess, but I like documenting it.”

“So you’re here for the literature program?”

“Yes and no. I’m doing the Literature stream, but I’m super into journalism. I ran the newspaper club back at my old collège.”

“That’s incredible, Alya.”

Alya continues to chat, and Marinette feels herself gradually engaging.

Okay. This is okay. Whatever _this_ is.

And then Ivan turns into a rock monster, Marinette is called upon to be a superhero, and things become a bit less okay.


	12. day 1464

“Hey, what are you _doing_?”

“It’s not what it looks like!” The new boy says, waving his hands, “I was trying to get it off of your seat!”

Chloé and Sabrina burst into giggles, and Marinette feels a familiar cold sweep over her.

“Very funny,” she says, walking to the empty teacher’s desk and taking a tissue. She covers the gum with it and sits down. “Are you proud of yourself?”

“It wasn’t me, I—”

Marinette looks away from him. Figures he’d be friends with Chloé.

“Hey, look,” Alya says, holding up her phone. Marinette’s eyes go wide.

“Wait a second, he’s Adrien Agreste?”

“Model, rich kid, friends with Chloé? Forget him.” Alya shakes her head.

Marinette sighs.

A few minutes later, Ivan literally breaks into the classroom.

Marinette grumbles into the floor.

“I don’t like this.”

* * *

Alya would make a great superheroine. She’s brave, level-headed, and _wants_ to be a hero.

But she’s also reckless, impulsive, and doesn’t know how serious being a hero can be.

And, Marinette thinks, as Alya cries for help, she _can’t_ be the hero at the moment.

Marinette clutches the earrings in her hand.

She’s not supposed to be a superhero. She’s not strong, she’s not brave, she’s not superhero material. She might be academically smart, and artistically talented, but she is _not_ a superhero.

But there are people hurting out there, people she’s being told she has the power to _save_.

She hates Chloé for hurting her, just like she hates the supervillain who’s causing everyone this suffering.

But at the same time, she hated the people who stood by and _let_ Chloé hurt her.

_All that is necessary for the triumph of evil is that good people do nothing._

She isn’t a superhero, but she is the best that’s available right now.

She can do it, just for now.

* * *

“Stand aside, you’ve done enough damage!” The officer calls to her. She flinches. He’s right. If she’d paid attention the first time, and hadn’t forgotten to purify the akuma…

But she’s the only one who can save them. The authorities don’t have the power to stop Stoneheart. This city needs _her_.

“Allow me to promise you, all of you, that no matter who tries to hurt you, Ladybug and Chat Noir will do everything in their power to keep you safe.”

She failed the first time, but she won’t ever again.

She’s going to protect this city, like she had wanted someone to protect her.


	13. day 1465

By the time the dismissal bell goes, the sun is blacked out and it feels like night. No one is in a rush to leave their classrooms. The semi-contained courtyard beckons nature in, and people shuffle along the perimeter to avoid the rain. A few students sprint across the roofless school grounds screaming with laughter and cold.

Alya leaves to pick up her twin sisters, giving Marinette a too-cheerful bise goodbye. Alya is very friendly and extroverted, and it does them both good. Marinette waves goodbye from the classroom and wonders how long their friendship will last – if it lasts at all.

She’s forgotten her umbrella, but that’s all right. She only lives a block away from the school, and the rain’s never hurt her. She makes her way towards the grand doors. Drops of rain leak down from the perimeter’s roofing, but she keeps moving.

Marinette stops at the doors. It’s still a bit weird, not having to take a bus home. All she has to do is walk a block west and the bright, cheerful sign of her family’s bakery will be there.

It would have been useful for her collégienne self, having such a quick escape route.

Those days are over, though. She doesn’t _need_ an escape route. She shut Chloé down this morning, even if her chest still hurt from the ensuing panic attack.

“Uh, hey.”

She turns. It’s that Adrien guy again. She gives him a nod, and looks away. Time to get going. Adrien walks away first, though, so she stays put and waits for him to leave.

He stops a few steps away, umbrella over his head.

“Hey, um… For what it’s worth, I was trying to get the gum off of your seat,” he says. He looks over his shoulder to her. “I’ve never been to school before… It’s all really new to me. I just… wanted you to know, I was trying to help you.”

He turns and offers the umbrella to her.

She stares at his hand, loosely clenched around the handle, and then back to his face.

Thunder crashes overhead, and then a flash of lightning blinds her.

 _Un coup de foudre._ A sign of love at first sight.

She closes her eyes, and smiles.

“Thanks, but no thanks,” she says. She opens her eyes, and steps towards him. She pushes his hand, and the umbrella, away from her and back to him. Confusion flits over his face. She smiles reassuringly. “I only live a block away, I don’t need it.”

“Oh.” He says. “Well– okay, then.” He pulls the umbrella back over his head. Behind them, a black car pulls up.

“Looks like your ride is here,” she prompts.

He gives the car a quick look, then nods and flashes a smile at her.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, then?”

She gives a wave goodbye.

He’s only a few steps away when the umbrella closes on him. Marinette doesn’t mean to laugh as hard as she does. He pries the umbrella off his head and laughs with her.

It’s okay. This is okay. Whatever _this_ is.


	14. Day 1457

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No proofreading we die like morons :3c

Alya is everything the Marinette of the past would have aspired to be. Alya is bold, outspoken, unfettered by confrontation, and still so kind. Her extroversion seizes Marinette and drags her back into the world of social interaction.

It’s equally exhausting, terrifying, and exhilarating.

Alya becomes a fast friend to the rest of the class, and by the end of the week, she has a group of girls agreeing to go to the mall together.

“You’re coming too, right Marinette?”

Marinette says yes before her brain can panic out a no.

Alya gives her a one-armed hug and beams.

“Awesome! So, Saturday, at noon, we’ll get lunch and check out the stores and…”

Marinette looks around the group. She can’t remember all their names, but that’s a good thing. It means they don’t know her either.

* * *

“Marinette, are you doing your homework?”

The trapdoor pops open and Sabine finds her daughter’s room in disarray. Clothes are strewn all over thee floor and furnishings. She’s taken down a few drawings so she can hook some clothes to the wall.

“Marinette… What is this?”

“I’m—” Marinette has a shirt pinned under her chin, and is eyeing two dresses in her hands. “I’m going out tomorrow. With fr—with some girls from school.”

Marinette lets the shirt fall and sets the dresses down on the chaise.

“Oh, Marinette,” Sabine smiles, a pride rising in her chest, “That’s lovely. Are they your new friends?”

“They’re in my class. Alya, that girl I told you about, she invited a couple of classmates to the mall.”

“I see… Do you want my help picking out an outfit?”

Marinette wrings her hands.

“…Yes, I think I’d like that.”

Sabine moves and embraces her daughter. Her hands avoid Marinette’s back. Marinette is stiff, but eventually leans into the hug.

“I’m very proud of you, Marinette.”

“What for?”

“I just… am.”

Marinette doesn’t reply, but her arms wrap around her mother’s waist.

“Thanks, maman,” she murmurs.


	15. Day 1458

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i don't actually remember the french words for sexualities it's very weird remind me to ask someone about that i'm just lazy rn

They’re set to meet in one of the malls in the arrondissement. Like most things in Paris, everything is flashy and expensive, but Marinette is a local, and things are familiar.

Still, there is something novel about seeing the gaggle of girls waiting for her and Alya, and something stranger about being a _part_ of that group, rather than an outsider looking in. Everyone is polite and cheerful, and Alya doesn’t leave her behind for the other girls.

It’s new, it’s heartwarming, and it feels almost too good to last.

Slowly, slowly, Marinette begins to speak without thinking, laugh without fearing, and open up to them. Their laughter and acknowledgement breaks down the barriers between them, and it’s not until Alya shrieks with glee at one of her lines that Marinette catches herself.

She’s getting too loud, too brash, too _annoying_. She has to reign herself in. This isn’t who she is, this isn’t what they want of her, this isn’t what people will tolerate.

The day ends with a movie. It’s a sweet romantic drama about a girl who ends up comatose and has an out-of-body experience. In a flashback to her past, her love interest reassures her a girl friend of his isn’t romantically into him. The camera pans over his shoulder to the girl in question, who – as in on cue- kisses another girl.

Marinette feels Rose jolt and squeal. It’s not one of disgust.

The audience chuckles and titters at the main girl’s comical shock. The love interest smirks.

Something seizes in Marinette’s chest. Unease?

The scenes moves onward, and the plot continues, but Marinette finds herself unattached to the couple as they fight and break up in the flashback.

The movie draws to a close. The girls wakes up, gets her kiss from Prince Charming, and the credits roll.

The group splits up to go home. Marinette gives up her unfinished popcorn to Alya, and they head back to their end of the arrondissement together.

“How was the film?” Alya prompts.

“It was… okay. Cute.”

There’s still something tight in her chest.

“I thought it was pretty sweet,” Alya launches into a ramble. She talks a lot. That’s good, because Marinette doesn’t. “A little basic, but the cinematography was really pretty and…”

Alya analyses the film all the way to the subway. Marinette listens, letting Alya take charge, until they stop at the sparsely filled station.

“What did you think of the girls?” Marinette interrupts.

Alya raises an eyebrow.

“The girls?”

“The…” Marinette searches for the word. Was homosexual dated? Dyke was… offensive, right? “The girl the main character thought was into the guy.”

“The– oh,” Alya’s face lights up in…

Oh, no.

“I’m not judgemental,” Marinette says, because she knows that look.

That fear.

Alya lets out a laugh – tight, choked, forced – and turns away. Marinette wants to pull her back. Shit.

What did she do? What does she do?

“I guess…” Alya’s voice is shaking. “Was I that obvious?” Her back is to Marinette, but she can see the girl has her arms crossed.

Not in anger, but to comfort herself.

Marinette knows that action.

“Wait,” things catch up, “I didn’t—” _oh_ , “you’re—”

“It’s fine, Marinette,” Alya _lies_ , “really.” She turns around, but keeps her eyes on the floor. “I thought it was dumb. Especially with how fragile straight people are, that the only way they’ll accept someone isn’t competition is if they’re literally incompatible, and it’s really pathetic as representation for gay people.”

Alya keeps talking, and Marinette lets her.

“And I especially feel this way because I’m—” Alya’s voice hitches, and her eyes dart around. There’s only a few people around, but that’s still a few that…

Marinette reaches for her. Hand? Arm? She settles for Alya’s shoulder. Alya’s gaze jerks up to Marinette, for the first time since they breached the topic.

“It’s not my business,” Marinette says.

Alya’s fingers dig into her arms.

“Sorry,” she says, and her voice catches.

“It’s okay. You have nothing to be sorry for.”

“No, you weren’t even asking, I didn’t mean to derail.”

Marinette’s mind clicks.

She and Alya are as different as night and day, but perhaps… perhaps Alya is more alike than she appears.

Marinette moves her hand from Alya’s shoulder, and pries Alya’s hands from her arms. She grasps them.

“Knowing you is my luck,” Marinette says, “but being your friend, and knowing you personally, that is my privilege and honour.”

Golden eyes shimmer with tears. Marinette tightens her hold on Alya’s hands. Should Marinette be smiling? Is this a smiling occasion? Is that what Alya wants?

A tear falls, and Marinette stumbles back from the force of Alya’s hug. There’s an empty cold between her fingers, supplemented by a bundle of warmth against her front.

“Thank you, Marinette.” Alya whispers. Her fingers are pressing into Marinette’s back, desperate and grateful.

Marinette still flinches, but her hands find Alya’s back before the girl can pull away.

Alya’s hugs are different from Chloé’s.

“It’s okay,” Marinette says, “You’re safe.”

_I will protect you. I will protect everyone who can't protect themselves._

* * *

Her mother greets her when she gets home.

“Did you have fun, sweetie?”

Marinette nods.

“I made a new friend.”

“Oh, is she nice?”

“Yes,” she says, “very nice.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the movie is real i just forgot the name and i'm too lazy to look it up now


	16. Day 1460

Alya enters the classroom cheerful and spirited, and the grin she gives Marinette warms her heart.

“Morning,” she says, so bright and lively.

“Good morning.”

Collège is different to lycée, and the dread Marinette expected has been warded off by novel friendship. And still…

Chloé saunters in with Sabrina at her heels, and Marinette looks down at her textbook. Alya chatters away without a second glance.

The blonde doesn’t start any fights that morning, and Marinette keeps herself occupied with school and Alya.

Things will be okay. Maybe.


	17. Day 1464

Marinette’s first Ladybug related freak out comes not more than a week after she swore she’d keep her city safe. There’s a robbery downtown, spurring the police into a chase through the packed city. Marinette doesn’t think and transforms without her backpack, forcing to carry it with her on the chase. She stashes it on a rooftop, and it’s not until after the criminals are caught and Alya updates her blog that Marinette realises Ladybug has left something behind.

It takes Tikki twenty minutes to talk Marinette through her meltdown.

“I’m so stupid I can’t even stop a robbery without giving away a piece of my identity and now Alya’s going to find out I’m Ladybug and I’ll blow my cover to the whole world in less than a week I’m not supposed to be a hero why didn’t you choose someone less screwed up than me this isn’t fair to Paris they deserve a better heroine Chat Noir deserves a better partner I can’t do this I can’t I can’t I can’t—”

“Has Alya told you she’s checked the book out yet?”

“N-no.”

“Then there’s still time to get it back.”

“But what if she’s already seen and just can’t talk to me—”

“We have to assume she hasn’t,” Tikki zips at Marinette’s keyboard.

“But what if she has?”

“What if she hasn’t?” Tikki returns. “And what if you find something far more interesting than a textbook?”

The computer screen flickers.

“The Louvre’s Egyptian history showcase?”

“Trust me, Marinette. It’ll work.”

* * *

Alya says she hasn’t checked the book out yet, and Marinette expects her to be lying, but Alya’s got an earnest look on her face. Still, maybe Alya’s a better liar than Chloé or any of her associates were. Maybe Alya’s waiting for Marinette to confess first.

But Alya buys into Marinette’s interest in the new exhibit and follows Tikki’s hunch.

Maybe it’s good luck that Alix’s brother gets akumatised just when Alya’s losing interest.

* * *

The last time she saw Chat Noir in person, they had purified Stoneheart for the first proper time. He’s still confident in them, still taking the superheroing thing in stride, and still showing so much more faith than she has.

His identity is still safe, unlike her, who nearly gave it away in less than a week.

But that’s not the point. They have to take down the Pharaoh and save Alya, first.

* * *

“Ladybug, from _five thousand years ago_?!”

“Looks like there is something you can learn from your own history…”

“Well if you ask me, you don’t look a day over three thousand!”

Ladybug manages a smile, but the moment passes before she can think of something appropriate in reply.

* * *

“This sacrifice isn’t good enough,” she says, and barters her life in exchange for another.

Chat stares at her, but she only tells him to catch Alya and bring her to safety. The Pharaoh takes her arm and brings her up to the abyss.

She looks death in the eye and tells the devil to go fetch.

* * *

“I’m definitely older than a lycéenne,” her recorded self tells Alya.

“Aren’t you curious as to _my_ age, mademoiselle? Chat asks.

“In a few moments, I won’t have to ask.”

Chat Noir’s probably a lycéen too, or maybe even an étudiant. He’s so well-collected, unlike her.

“So you’re really five thousand years old?” she asks Tikki.

“No,” Tikki says, “I’m actually older than that.”

“Then, I guess you’ve known smarter Ladybugs than me, huh?”

“Marinette,” Tikki hovers so closely to her face that Marinette’s eyes begin to cross. “You don’t give yourself enough credit for all you’ve done.”

“I nearly gave away my identity.”

“It’s in human nature to make mistakes. You’re meant to learn from them. Do you think Chat Noir hasn’t made mistakes? Or any of the other superheroes in the world? I’ve been around for millennia, Marinette. I’ve yet to meet a single Ladybug who didn’t make a mistake in their career.”

Marinette wraps the bed covers around herself.

“You were chosen for a reason, Marinette. _You_. Not Alya. Not anyone else. Paris needs _you_.”

“I know, I know,” Marinette curls up. “I won’t give up on being Ladybug again, but… Why me?”

“Because you’re willing to help others,” Tikki says. “Just like today, you almost got sacrificed to save Alya.”

“Yeah,” Marinette acknowledges. “I see.”

She straightens and reaches for the bedside lamp.

“I think I’m gonna sleep, now.”

Tikki smiles and settles onto a spare pillow.

“Good night, Marinette.”

“Night, Tikki.”

* * *

Marinette dreams of darkness in the skies, a lover reunited, and a life exchanged.

She wakes up in silence and wonders.

Is it selflessness that wills her to risk her life for the safety of others? Or is an apathy for her own self? Or… is it the selfish desire for praise?


	18. Day 1498

Following Marinette’s near miss, she takes Tikki’s advice and takes precautions to protect her identity. She learns a face of calm and hides her urgency at incoming akuma attacks, she makes sure to do rounds around Paris to avoid being followed into her detransformation, and takes care not to be seen leaving or entering the school as Ladybug.

Lycée is different to collège, because Ladybug changes things, but also because Marinette doesn’t know the students of Françoise Dupont.

“What picture curse?” Alya asks Juleka.

The girl sighs. “Ever since grade school I can never have my picture taken without it being ruined by something.”

“That’s terrible!” Rose laments.

Alya rests a hand on Juleka’s shoulder.

“Don’t worry, we’ll make sure _this_ picture day turns out perfect,” Alya promises. “Right, Marinette?”

Marinette brings up a smile.

“Of course. It’ll all be fine,” she says.

* * *

It isn’t fine. Chloé wants to stand next to Adrien and keeps disrupting the picture. Adrien only chuckles bashfully, but doesn’t stop her dramatics.

Marinette wants to tell Chloé to stop it already, she has selfies with Adrien all over her Instagram anyway, but the words fail to leave her throat.

Chloé keeps complaining, and even though it’s not directed towards Marinette, she finds herself dazing off like in collège.

Just a few more minutes, then the photographer will get back and take the photo and it’ll be over with and she can go back to class and sit through a lecture and—

“Ah, here we go,” the photographer says, “say ‘spaghetti’!”

“Hang on,” Alya says, “Where’s Juleka?”

The camera flashes.

* * *

“She did _what_?!” Alya bursts out. Marinette flinches.

“Chloé locked Juleka in the girl’s washroom,” Rose squeaks through tears, “I-I mean, I don’t _know_ if it was her, but Sabrina did leave, and someone put up a chair against the stall—”

“Ugh, that _brat_!” Alya snarls. “Where’s Juleka now?”

“I don’t know, she ran off somewhere,” Rose sniffles.

“It’s okay, I’ll ask the photographer to retake the photo—”

“What if he says no?” Marinette interrupts.

“It’s still worth a shot.” Alya says. “And if we can’t, I have a camera at home, we can have a sleepover and I’ll make sure Juleka sees herself in those pictures, and _without_ Chloé.”

“Oh, that’s so nice of you, Alya,” Rose rubs at her eyes. “I’m sure Juleka will love—”

Marinette feels a cold over her back.

“Excuse me, I gotta go to my locker.”

* * *

What was that promise she made? That she hated people for standing by and letting Chloé hurt her?

She moves without thinking. From her bag, Tikki asks what she’s doing. Marinette ignores her and watches the principal’s office door.

The office’s lunch break happens in two blocks, half the staff assigned to each one. Marinette will be late pulling this stunt off, and were she to be caught…

Damocles’ door opens and the man himself leaves, locking the door behind him and walking off for his break.

“Marinette.”

“I want to help Juleka, Tikki. Please.”

“This is underhanded.”

“Playing by the rules is why people like Chloé get away with what they do.” Marinette says through gritted teeth. “Help me, Tikki, or I’ll just sneak in through the window.”

“Marinette, what’s gotten into you?”

“Help me, Tikki. Help Juleka.”

Tikki’s face scrunches up, but she relents and and phases through the door. A second later, it slides open.

Marinette exhales.

“Thank you, Tikki.”

“Hurry,” is all the kwami says.

* * *

Marinette sneaks out of the office just in time for an akuma to chase the current P.E. class out of the locker room.

At first, she thinks she’s seeing double, or the akuma’s summoned an army of duplicates, but familiar voices scream and cower in fear, and it all clicks.

The akuma leaps onto the second floor hall and corners a blonde.

“Chloé Bourgeois!”

The akuma points a wrist at Chloé, and in a flash of light, renders an exact copy.

“Augh, my hair! My clothes! This dress is an atrocity!”

“If you ask me, I’d say it was an improvement!” The akuma cackles. “You kept me out of sight from everyone else, but now all anyone will ever see is _me_!”

“Juleka!”

Marinette is stupid, Marinette is naïve, Marinette still has hope.

“You will call me Reflekta!”

She’s dangerously close to the akuma, but her attention has shifted. If Reflekta shoots Marinette…

“I know how it feels to be ignored, to be unseen, and I especially know how it feels to be pushed out of the picture by Chloé—”

“Hey!” The ex-blonde scowls.

“But– I want to see Chloé hurt, too. I want to see her pay, for a lot of things, but I _can’t_. Humiliating her, hurting her in return, it wouldn’t make me feel better–”

“Well it would for _me_!” Reflekta snarls.

“Maybe you do, people are different, but after all of it is done? What will your family think? What would Rose think?”

“They don’t matter anymore! Nothing matters to me anymore!”

“Maybe not right now, because you’re angry, and you don’t care about the consequences, but—”

A mask flashes over Reflekta’s face. Marinette sucks in a breath, and vaults over the railing to the courtyard floor.

She has enough sense to roll on impact, and Reflekta narrowly misses, but it still knocks the wind out of her.

“Hey, dollface! What brand’s that foundation?” Chat Noir calls out.

Marinette scrambles into a hallway and sprints for a hiding place. Her chest is going to burst.

She tells Tikki to transform her instead of lecturing.

She tried, at least. She tried.


	19. Day 1503

“Marinette,” Tikki says, “You’ve been working non-stop for four hours now! Don’t you think you should take a break?”

“Can’t,” Marinette says, face stuck in colourful notes. “I missed so many classes because of Ladybug, I can’t fall behind now.”

“Marinette…”

“Shh, Tikki. You can use my phone if you’re bored.”

Tikki sighs.

* * *

“Today sees the unveiling of Paris’ first tribute to our new superheroes, Ladybug and Chat Noir. As you can see, there’s quite a crowd here in le Place des Vosages, many Parisians showing up to support the heroes and – oh! Chat Noir has arrived! Ladybug doesn’t seem to be with him, but there’s still some time before the unveiling. The statue has been commissioned by Mayor Bourgeois in honour of the heroes. Despite controversy in City Hall, the Mayor insists this action is merited, and that all money for the statue’s creation has been covered by him. For more on that, I’ll hand it off to our special correspondent…”

"Excuse me, Chat Noir,” Théo Barbot begins, “Where’s Ladybug?"

"Eh, don’t worry about Ladybug. I'm sure she'll be here any minute.” Chat Noir winks at the crowd and waves, keeping his voice low. “I can handle this situation alone for now. I'm the one in charge anyway, ya know."

“Oh, I see,” Theo holds a newspaper clipping in his hands. “It's just that, I wanted to ask her to autograph this photo.”

Chat Noir settles down and stares at the picture. Theo is starstruck.

“She's amazing. She's so brave and smart, the way she always saves everyone..."

"Perhaps,” Mayor Bourgeois steps close, “the ceremony should commence. It might bring her here faster."

"Please, just one more minute, Mayor,” Theo says, looking up to the horizon, “She’ll be here soon, I can feel it.”

Chat Noir frowns.

* * *

Marinette’s head hits the textbook with a thud, and Tikki floats down from the bed. The kwami chuckles. Her charge is stubbornly determined, enough so that she wore herself out. Tikki tugs down a blanket and settles it around Marinette’s shoulders.

* * *

“Ladybug…” Theo’s shoulders slump. “She’s not coming, is she?”

“She probably got caught up in something, we’re pretty busy people, after all.” Chat Noir waves him off, peering around the statue. “You did some amazing work, dude, just one thing: I’m actually taller than Ladybug.”

The étudiant doesn’t seem to care.

“I put everything I had into this statue. Ladybug is an icon, an inspiration to us all. I adore her, and this was my chance to show her. I’m sure if she knew me, she’d see how much we have in common, how much we both care about the things we love, and how much effort we both put towards our passions. I just wanted—”

Chat Noir cuts him off by slinging his arm around the older boy’s shoulder. Something roils his stomach and comes out in a dry chuckle.

“Sorry to burst your bubble, dude, but, well… Ladybug and me, we're a thing, ya know?”

The étudiant frowns, brows creasing in confusion.

“Wait… you mean–?!”

“Uh-huh. LB and I are partners, in every sense of the term. We’re like _this_ ,” Chat crosses his fingers and grins in the civilian’s face. “Sorry, bro.”

Theo scowls, and pushes Chat away. He scoffs and stalks out of the park.

“What does Ladybug even see in him?” Chat’s enhanced hearing picks up.

Chat stretches and looks back to the statue.

Devotion, huh?

* * *

Marinette doesn’t realise she’s fallen asleep until her phone rings. She stretches her sore arms and picks up her phone. A blanket falls from her shoulders.

“’ello?”

“Dude, did you hear?” Alya gushes, “Chat Noir robbed the Louvre!”

“He _what_?”

“Yeah! I’ll link you to the video, he took out a guard and stole the Mona Lisa!”

“No…”

“I know, crazy, right? Oh– gotta go, I’m covering for the Ladyblog! There’s so much new content today!”

“Uh, yeah,” Marinette rises. Her knees pop. “Stay safe, okay?”

“When don’t I?” Alya teases. “See ya!”

“Bye.”

Marinette hangs up and stretches. Her body hurts.

Would Chat Noir become a thief? Maybe. But there’s no way he’d be this blatant.

“Marinette? What’ll you do?” Tikki asks.

“Something doesn’t feel right about this,” she says, “I think Ladybug needs to do some independent investigating.”

“You got it.”

* * *

“You believe I’m innocent, right Buginette?”

Ladybug doesn’t put anyone above doing harm, no matter how nice they are to her or to other people. She’s learned better than to be _that_ naïve.

But Chat Noir is not just anyone, either. There are lives to risk if she doesn’t work well with him.

“Enough joking around, Chat Noir, this is serious! What happened?”

“It’s a long story, if you’d been at the park this morning, you’d get it.”

Ladybug sputters. Chat Noir continues over her.

“Anyway, I’m pretty sure I know who’s framing me. I’m checking him out.”

“Who is it? Where are you going?”

“Doesn’t matter, it’s between me and him. I’ll call you if I need backup.”

“What? Wait, Chat—”

Ladybug swears at the dial tone.

* * *

“If you don’t believe I’m the real Chat Noir, ask him about our love for each other.”

Our what?

She sets Chat’s hand down, and looks the other in the eye.

Wrong. Feels wrong. She is _not doing that_.

“I hope you didn’t tell him about us,” she says.

“Huh?”

“About who we’re really working for.” Ladybug rises and steps back, holding her arms out. “About this entire ruse.”

“I–” Chat Noir’s eyes dart around, then still on hers. He goes solemn. “Of course I didn’t.”

Ladybug grins, and closes in.

“Thank you,” she says, “ _liar_.”

Copycat snarls. He’s been had.

Idiot.

“I love you, Ladybug,” he declares, “I’m much better than this mangy alley cat! We deserve to be together, not you and him!”

“Sorry, but you’ve got your story wrong _again_. Chat Noir and I are a team, Paris’ safety depends on the both of us. Chat’s a lot of things, but he would never lie to me.”

Copycat sputters, and the real Chat Noir kicks him into the wall.

* * *

“I gotta run, you better take care of him, he just got his heart broken.”

“I didn’t intend to,” Ladybug says, picking up the purified photo. “I’m just not ready for any kind of relationship.” She only just figured out friendships.

“Well, at least you can apologise for missing the show.”

“The what?”

Chat Noir’s ring beeps.

“Yikes, I gotta go, see ya!”

Chat Noir flings himself through the upper window of the studio. Ladybug’s brain catches up.

Oh. Shit. The monument. The one Chloé’s dad commissioned for the park. She missed it!

“Ladybug?”

She turns to a bleary-eyed Theo, and her chest twists. Shit, he was the sculptor, and she of all people missed the unveiling of his work.

“I’m so sorry I missed the unveiling,” she says, “I was so busy with my non-superhero life, I just…” she hands the newspaper clipping back. He takes it with careful hands. “I assure you, I didn’t mean to forget.”

“It’s…” Theo’s eyes meet hers. He smiles. “It’s fine. If you don’t mind, though, could you sign this for me?” He pulls a pen from his pocket.

Ladybug beams.

“You have some amazing talent,” she says, scribbling a Ladybug insignia. “I really look forward to seeing what else you make.”

“Thank you, that means the world to me, coming from you.” Theo’s eyes shine. “And, uh, don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone about you and Chat.”

A hole opens up in her stomach.

“Tell anyone about what?”

“You know… That you and him are…”

* * *

“Alya Césaire? Admin of the Ladyblog? It's Ladybug. I need a favour.”


	20. Day 1504

“I saw your call on that Ladyblog,” Chat Noir says, touching down on a beam. “What’s up?”

The Eiffel Tower is beautiful at night, and despite being as bright as the rest of the city, it’s barren in civilians.

Good. No witnesses.

“Why did you tell Theo you and I were dating?”

She practiced all day for how the confrontation would go down. She envisioned freaking out, slapping him, cutting ties – all things she couldn’t do because they were a team and they needed to work together.

So she stares out at the sea of lights, and doesn’t turn to him.

“I–” Chat Noir’s regret is tangible. “I don’t know what you’re talking about—”

“Lie to me _again_ , Chat Noir. _I dare you_.”

Untrustworthy. Unbelievable. Unknown.

Marinette knows to trust no one, but Ladybug? Ladybug forgot.

“He – He was being a total creep about you! I only said it to get him to back off, I was doing it for you—”

“ _You_ don’t get to do anything for me!” Her voice breaks. “You don’t get to make choices for me! You are _not_ me, so you don’t get to decide what is right for me!”

She would turn to look at him and stare him down, but there are tears in her eyes and a lump in her throat and _damn it she thought she was **past all of this**_.

“You _especially_ do not get to spread lies about my relationships!”

“But, I… I… Do you know how much older he is than us?”

“I do, and I don’t _care_ , because Theo is not the point here. The point is that you _lied about me_. And for what? Because you’re protective? Because you don’t want some stranger pursuing me? We live in _Paris_ , Chat Noir. I know how rabid fans can get, but you are neither my keeper, nor _me_. I appreciate your protection during akuma attacks, but I don’t need it in something as petty as a crush!”

She blinks away her tears and looks Chat Noir in the eye. He’s speechless, mouth parted to voice silence.

“Just,” her chest hurts, again. The costume is fused to her skin, yet she feels something tingling between her scars and the fabric. “Look me in the eye, Chat Noir, and tell me you’re sorry. Tell me you won’t do this again, and I’ll let all of this go.”

Chat Noir looks away, shoulders curling into himself in shame.

“I’m sorry I lied about you to Theo,” he says, head bowed. “I won’t do it again.”

He doesn’t look her in the eye. She lets out a breath.

That’s okay, because no matter how similar his hair, Chloé would never cut hers short.

“I forgive you,” she echoes her past. “It’s okay.”

Chat Noir meets her eyes. She’s glad his are green.

**Author's Note:**

> follow me on [tumblr (imaginal)](http://imaginal.tumblr.com/) and [twitter (vivoeux)](https://twitter.com/vivoeux) for fic updates, wips, and me crying at my keyboard


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